Bitter Sweet Home Coming

“Every existing thing is born without reason, goes on living out of weakness, and dies by accident.”
― Jean-Paul Sartre, “The Philosophy of Jean Paul Sartre”

On the 18^th of February 2012, the world said goodbye to their music idol, Whitney Elizabeth Houston.

The funeral ceremony was aired to the world via a social media- the Houston family invited the world into their private lives. 

Social media connected people on a higher platform of solitude and spirituality. Individuals from all walks of life and religious backgrounds went to church.  We all entered that church, led by social media to say goodbye to Whitney. Moreover, we were taken back to school and taught about what it meant to religious and to belief in a higher power (God).  The strength it takes to accept loved one has now gone to another spiritual reality.

 What echoed throughout was that this was not a final goodbye rather that their loved one’s purpose on earth had ended; now it was their time to rejoice in the arms of their heavenly father. My existentialist hat is own: The belief in the afterlife is a hard concept to grasp, as the afterlife creates a continuum of life in spiritual form. Death although acknowledged in the funeral ceremony, does not exist- spirituality creates an afterlife.

As I write over 13,000 people around the world have flooded the ‘Remembering Whitney website, to share their memories. http://remembering.whitneyhouston.com/. On this social platform (aided by Facebook) the participants were united in sharing memories of their idol, and in sharing their feeling of loss.

Twitter yesterday was flooded with people commenting per second on their thoughts about the funeral ceremony. I was amazed at the floods of per second tweets from individual across the global- who all had a bit of personal contribution to make. There was no inhibition of thoughts, which would usually be the norm in daily physical social engagements.  People had free will on this social platform to speculate positively and negatively on each speaker; there was love, empathy, mockery, ridicule and at time ‘hateful’ words. These people had no obligation to anyone to hold some type of social etiquette; for at the touch of a button they had the free will to express their thoughts, without any judgements from anyone. This is the phenomena of social media, guilt free environment and a platform where one makes the choice.

Social media, allowed a shared platform where people could express how they were feeling, about the death of someone they idolised.

There is conflict within me, about all this social media hype. The same social media that was adulated yesterday, was the same that may have been the downfall of this idol. Of course there may have been other causes as well, which have to be considered.

Who is the social media?

We all feed of the media virus and have some level of control in pushing the social media drive. There are those behind the camera who are driven by our need to be feed off per second the latest news.

 This person who had everything in the world had doubts about herself (like we all do); unlike us her feelings must have been heightened to another level. When she was down, we were all spectators on her down fall and fed off all the negative press. Not once do I recall any high level out pouring as magnified to the level as it was yesterday.  There was no outwardly energy pouring out to rescue their idol.

I watched the funeral ceremony, whilst multi-taking between pre-viewing Twitter, Facebook and TMZ, another social site was that we feed off social media, in all shapes and forms. I am amazed at my ability to simultaneously feed off various social media platforms at once. There was some level of stimulus to absorb it all, as much as possible so as not to miss any second of it. 

What I began to realise was that we scream the loudest when the person has departed from this earth. We mourn yet not recall that at one point the individual may have cried out the loudest screams to be rescued. Typical us we feed off the negative press, and feed the vulnerable individual to the wolves, thereby leaving the individual isolated.

So there becomes a conflict the person wants to be loved so much, by the public and struggles through love and hate relationships with the media. The conclusion is that the media is not only the person carrying the camera, the media is US. We all have some level of control in what defines social media. This is such a powerful movement which can construct and destruct in a second.

It was interesting to see that when the camera’s stopped rolling on the TV, the social media on some internet sites continued rolling. There was a high interest from reporters, who wanted to know which celebrities had attended the service. There was screaming and shouting at the site of a celebrity, and a need to get that person’s attention. What was forgotten here was that we were somewhat intruders on the day; so there needed to be some level of respect for the aggrieved. I can appreciate that us the population has the need to know who attended. What become apparent was that as spectators, there was luck of sympathy and it was easily forgotten that these individuals were human beings who were going through a grieving process and may have been in fragile state to vocalise their feelings to the media (US).

To conclude on the existentialism:

“They give birth astride of a grave, the light gleams an instant, then its night once more.”
― Samuel Beckett, Waiting for Godot

Albert Camus believed in the concept of absurdity- “Life is Absurd.”

Life is Absurd in that we live in the future and in the hope of later and tomorrow.

“We live on the future: “tomorrow,” “later on,” “when you have made your way,” “you will understand when you are old enough.” Such irrelevancies are wonderful, for; after all, it’s a matter of dying…. Tomorrow, he was longing for tomorrow, whereas everything in him ought to reject it. That revolt of the flesh is the absurd.”

This absurdity occurs because the Intellectual patterns in humans desire to live for the future. Biological patterns, on the other hand, don’t live for the future.  Camus suggested we get rid of hope because hope gives us the illusion of eternity. He says that we should live in absurd freedom, revolting from our absurd position, but constantly reaffirming the absurd.

So basically what he is saying is that when one awakens to self, they realise how absurd is it, to long for the future which may never come. Rather what’s more important is how we actively engage and perform with life in the now.  Not such an easy concept to achieve, but ultimately this way would bring us closer to understanding death and its importance. And possibly if we lived our lives in such a way, we would be more questioning to daily routines and rules and significance in our lives. For we only have today to live, Right?

Camus believed in dualisms, life and death, rational and irrational. The conclusion was we had to engage with one or the other. For instance, if you’re not being rational, then you’re being irrational, and by being irrational one would not be able to understand anything, including the universe. He suggested that we reflect on our emotions, and then we would begin to understand. What I can understand in relation to death- is that we do not understand it (therein lies the absurdity), because we are busy living for the future.  Death is absurd because the rational mind cannot deal with it.

“It is the idea of death makes one aware of one's life, one's vital being – that which is impermanent and will one day end. When this vitality is appreciated, one feels free – for there is no urgency to perform some act that will cancel the possibility of death, seeing as though there is no such act. In this sense, all human activity is absurd, and the real freedom is to be aware of life in it’s actually and totally, of its beauty and its pain.”

 “We know we must die; we would rather not, but why must we suffer angst, engage in theatrics, and create myths for ourselves. Why not simply face it and get on with the living of our lives?” -Kai Nielsen’s

To end........

There is an absurdity in our temporary fixture on the death ‘especially in relation to celebrities (for we only know them via social media). Social media numbs us, to the level of which we do not really appreciate the symbolism in the death; it does not push us hard enough to wake us up to ourselves to change the course in the direction of our lives. Apart from exposure to social media, death close to home neither pushes us to that heightened state of living for today (only a few can master this art).

Death has now become easily accessible globally, via socially mediated devices and communication technologies. Apart from access to celebrity deaths, we are exposed to images of death from around the world- per each news hour we watch on a daily basis. We have become immune about death it’s now a daily norm. There is nothing authentic in this experience.

If we were affected by death, we would not be immune to rescuing a celebrity (with a drug addiction), or mass daily killings, or poverty.

As a collective if we were affected, we could change the world by a click of a button. This would be joined social consciousness awakening to the absurdity of life.

'Made In Chelsea' vs. 'The Only Way is Essex'

 

Grand opportunity to analyse the West vs East side story

Who are their audience and why the attraction or the allure?

There is subtext about class on both ends; one is more composed the other is overly exposed with extra sun burn to accompany this type of class. Their audiences' surprisingly  enough have become men and women of all ages and from all works of life. There may be a clash and divide, which on classes are drawn to either side.

One side is demure in being, the other wants to make the grand entrance of the big I am. The class that has IT from inception is less flashy and lucks the craving to  display it via appearance.

Who is more accepting and wants to be accepted? Neither

Both sides have raised an exclusive status, in order to fit in these types of social circles an 'average Joe' would not fit. Therefore, what may be classed as a 'third class citizen' has been blanked out and ex-communicated.

'Third Class Citizen' represents luck in: material items, social etiquette (for the West), social status & wealth.

So why do people want to be like any of them:

The exposure to a surreal world possibly?

The allure and grandeur of pretence of being someone?

The material world, of designer items and being able to purchase an item without a second blink?

Are there any lessons to be learned?

Are they really 'Made in Chelsea' or clawed their way in, as every other 'average Joe'.

Is the only way Essex, a place where reality consists or faking one's appearance?

Does acting now represent gaining an exposure platform to social media, via a reality show?

Credit to be given, where it's due

Both can be given credited for being young and ambitious.

For having a no holds bar in living the dream and actualising their potential

Both represent the Americanism's of chasing the Dream

In the UK, one quietly acquires wealth and it's not for the most part on public display- although, I may be naive to this. So when it's exposed on the TV, there is no wonder why it may appeal to the ordinary folk.

What these shows demonstrate especially, 'The only Way is Essex' that 'IT'- THE DREAM, can be attainable. It demonstrates that if you are passionate about something- pursue it. There is another false concept here as well, that's its easily attainable via the realms of social media. The unheard, message is that it takes hard graft, dedicated and commitment to attain 'THE DREAM'. Again the dream for some can be easily by mummifying their appearance for public speculation- each to their own.

While on the other hand, 'Made in Chelsea,' that is a hard barrier to break. I am guessing part of being part of or becoming 'IT,' majorly consist of being blue blood origin, accompanied by inherited wealth. Also consists of being exposed to public school, where day one you are taught, and the skill of social etiquette

Although the two classes are somewhat similar they would not mix socially, as there might be an underlying snobbery on each side.

Any links to existentialism?

It's about BEING in every shape and form. Living in the now and actualising one's potential. Now, where this form of being is elevated on a social media platform, there may be some disconnection with the authentic self. Rather one becomes consumed with the state of being to please and be somebody else for others. Some will feed off the social media attention to feed anxious states of being- social media becomes a form of a drug. If unexposed for prolonged periods, one becomes to feel as though they do not exist and cannot cope with being- nothingness.

So which side, do I am find more alluring?

I'll let you be the judges and define which class I may belong to whether it's the West or the East. You would actually be surprised, at what am MADE of, and which WAY- represents me.

Death Anxiety (Europea vs African)

It appears death is following me. Possibly awakening me to another heightened  level.

I thought today, yes I've got it, a phenomena about death taboos. In reality  it not really a new phenomena, rather my own awakening.


It's become prevalent that death,has become a social norm for people especially in developing countries. As I grow older am starting to realise that death, is now becoming part of my reality. In death, there is nothing unique about emotions or a distinction in feelings.

Possibly the phenomena I am starting to appreciate is the difference in grieving processes across cultures. The distinction for me is the cross between the European and African culture grieving processes(this is the closest I can associate with having been exposed to both.


My assumption was that,  if you vocalise and are expressive emotionally during the passing of your loved one, then one's family circle becomes supportive.

On the contratary English cultures has demonstrated the grieving process for some is  can be more subdued; non emotionally expressive. This at times has to with one's social and class background.

On the otherhand, I am beginning to now understand that in some African  cultures, death is a taboo. Although most may cry the loudest during the ceremony amongst many others, in the end each individuals goes their own way and grieves secretly. Culturally  people feel uncomfortable to discuss the cause of death (rather people are left to speculate). This may be due to another social taboo, that the deceased died from a deadly disease (i.e. Aids) which is not yet fully socially accepted. Families in death congregate, yet they segregate in the supporting each other through the grieving process.


The re-occurring words are be strong, it's in Gods hands, time is a healer. This is across cultures.


The distinction is after a loved one dies the English cultures are able to discuss the deceased, celebrate their memories (i.e. joint yearly annual pub memorial gatherings), visit the deceased graveyard at free will, vocalise their emotions.

 For some African cultures there is a song and dance about visiting the graveyard, this process does not become free will. The chief or the 'man with keys to the graveyard,' dictates authoritative status of when one can visit their loved ones grave.


The Africa in you speaks out:
We are aware you are grieving, but topic of the deceased now becomes nil & void. The deceased person shall no longer be discussed in any shape form of manner.


So how can time be a healer, how can one  be strong, or accept it's in God's hand when the deceased becomes now existence in discussion following their death.


Going back to the beginning of the story- I wonder how then some African cultures now cope with death becoming the norm of daily life?

What does that do to the psyche when not much is acknowledged about the deceased or the grieving process?

A KNIGHT IN SHINING £££ ECONOMIC PROOF VEST

I dreamt of my knight in shiningg armor.
The dream was so surreal.

Although it's been a week I can still recall his futures and character.

• We lay in each others arms.
• He wrapped his mascular arms arms around me.  He was tall, wore a gray  t-shirt with jeans. His feet wear bare and that appealed to me more.
• In his arms I felt his strength and felt secure. I felt empowered to be protected by him. Wrapped up in his strong protective arms, I felt warmth and at ease with my heart.

Now back to realism. The dream itself it a dream and a mirror reflection of my desires. The dream man is an idea and complements my wishes and desires.

As of last year, I've discovered that I am no longer, singing to Beyonce's tune of "Independent Women." As much as I have enjoyed that era, I am now starting to realise I could gladly put my career ladder shoes up. It's become a tough world, filled with territorial survival instincts.

I've discovered men within my age range are either going bold, with kids or do not meet the criteria.

 

I believed in being miss independent, in a relationship and out of relationship. Now as I reach my mid thirties, some prospects of my tick list of the ideal man are starting to shorten by the day. I no longer need a long tick list.

 

What matters now are the economical facts. I need and want an ambititious man, with a good profitable career. My boundaries are narrowing as the years go. A profitable career does mattter, social and economical  factors have dictated this. Therefore, I take my hat off to being miss independent.

The chapter of me saying, hunny I can support you while you pursue your lifes ambitions is gone- sorry guys. The princess hat is, this lady wants to be treated and pampered for all her hard grafting up the career ladder.

I now want  an  Adonis, who adorns himself with the a secure profitiable economic proof vest.

I felt your sprit leave me

I awoke with a sadness on a gloomy day.
For some reason, I awoke with the feeling and need to be creative.
I dragged myself to my table by the window with spectular views of my little seaside town.
There I sat with this diary in front of me, along with a blank art book starring at me screaming out for me to scribble something.

Although I was driven with the feeling to write, there I sat starring at this blank page.
My mind was a blank page.

There you crept as a cold chilled days breeze.
I felt you through my back, then felt the hair in my arms rise.
Thereafter, I felt the cold chilled air sweep through me
I sat numb to this sensation which I could not explain nor express
I let this feeling sensualise through my body, like a familiar friend

The blank memory and book, now had a vivid story to tell
You were there in that moment with me
You had come to rescue me from deep sadness
You had felt it was time for us to finally part
You lifted the pressure off my heart and I felt it leave me

How could I let you go, after 10years?
In this moment, I felt free will
Your presense in silence had a maginitude of meaning, which I did not need to articulate.
You were there in spirit.

To this day, I cannot alter nor express the experience
All I know it was the day you came to me and showed me in physical form that I had to let you go.

I now feel at ease
No longer do I feel sadness nor do I yearn for you, in sadness
What I feel and see now is you; adorable and handsome you
I remember you and those memories are warm
I adored and loved you too much that in passing I could not let you go

Forerver loved E.S.
 May your soul rest in peace sweet prince

Mid 30's Tangled Web

I am verging on the boarder of nearing mid 30's (still in denial), although I am fearless at the concept; there are other factors to be weary of.

Being mid-thirties and single is somewhat interesting. I feel like Cleopatra sat at a peak of a gold plated pyramid, with a gold wand- clicking and flipping through needs and desires. At mid thirties what is definitely clear is the assurance in oneself.

So possibly having this advantage can also be a detriment in the end. I am scarlet with a red and gold mid 30s imprint on the back, to symbolise independence and entrapment. The balance weight statue is tipping on both sides, and never equals equilibrium.


To men in their 20s I am appealing and "sexually" assured (I am assuming). I symbolise a cougar (never thought those words would come out of my mouth, in relation to myself). I am empowered by the word cougar, yet would find it disempowering if these 20s something’s would ever alter those words from their mouths.

So instead of running away from 20 something’s, a magnet pulls me towards their appealing physicality and sense of being. They symbolise a reminder of how awesome it was to be that young. I am energised by their flare and view of life. I wish I had this vantage point when I was in my 20s, I would have pushed me harder, to maintain that youthful fountain. I am amused by their passion to live in the moment and to keep going at life’s ambitions. I am more thrilled at the thought that I can blend in, be identified as a 20 something in a line up at a party. So the 30s forehead has not peaked yet. I have become less amused for the constant ID security checks for purchasing alcohol in a SUPERMARKET- as cute as that is, it gets dull after a while.

30 something MEN:

Men in their early 30s do not seem appealing as mid 20s men. Early 30s appear to be lost, in soul searching whether it is grabbing onto the career ladder, or in deciding which route to take relationship wise. In mid 20s men there is a fearless nature in them, and a definite yes in who they are and what they want. There is a bit of arrogance which comes in honesty- such as they are not ready to settle down. While early 30s shocks easily at the concept of defining what sort of relationship they want.

Late 30s to early 40s (that’s my limit at the moment- I shall not cross beyond mid 40s).

I have realised this group have been drinking from different youth fountains. Some of them come in packages which looks like a 20s something wrapper; fit and confident in appearance. Then the other package comes looking worn out, as though they have been beaten by all life has had to give. I've also noticed that some (usually the majority) are going bold- scary concept. So my late something’s has fallen in the normal ratio of the potential to become bold. How and when did things change happen- or had I had been blind to it?

For some reason I am yet to bond with late 30s, I've skipped to early 40s. For me possibly it’s the assurance that the early 40s man is sorted somehow. Only the extra package that comes with this man is children and the all important ex-wife. I have not reached the threshold yet, where I am confident to play house or become second mommy.

Give me a break, I am resolving my own anxiety issues of possibly becoming a mommy myself (this may need therapy).40s something I've experienced although balanced career wise this species is yet to be fully confident in their own skin.

I have yet to explore what mid 30s men are all about somehow we have yet to connect. I think possibly we are too close in age. There is arrogance in me, that they won’t satisfy my overall needs and desires.

Now reflecting back to what my entrapment could be:

I am established at some level career wise. 20s men, am good to buy dinner and the extra's for, but that's not who I want in the long run. Other men, I am nearly their equal when it comes to the restaurant bill. I am completely turned off at the concept of splitting bills, down to the pence on every occasion- surprise me once in a while you might just become mine. Others are threatened at the concept that I might actually earn more than them.

 Now can you visualise the tangled web am in? Whether I’ve weaved this tangled web- that may be an therapy session in the waiting.

I could not settle for mid 20s because entail taking their early adulthood away (sorry Demi just can't). The 30 something’s do not instil confidence in me, a little bit scatty and more career focused. They would be content in caging me up and in feeding me their male machismo gratification. Unfortunately, being a sexual slave or an empty vessel does not appeal to me. This group is good with words, which are a skill of treachery. It's those lovely words we succumb to ladies and when you get to the route of the words there is no core. So for a woman who falls deep quickly she is left emotionally wounded wondering how did it all happen? With the lingering question- I thought he loved me? Sorry but this group won't help connect with the why's, how’s and when's. They are the doers and go getters, catch them possibly in their late 30s then maybe just maybe there may be some connection of truth.

My venture continues...................